Family is
by Tia-Pixie
Summary: Each member of his close kin represent very different things to Balin; there are different personalities at play, different positions within the family and, since dwarves live so long, so many different memories they share. "They have been each other's playmates, confidants, and co-conspirators; they have faced kings, elves, beasts and orcs, and they have not wavered much."


**A/N: So I've had something of a block recently as several of you will know, and I thought I might try something in a totally different style of writing. They are very much a personal thing because they are essentially my character notes that I use for background: past fallouts, childhood memories etc. – things that I have in mind but don't necessarily mention in my usual writing for whatever reason. I've expanded on them and made them up to be fairly decent lengths but thus far have only managed Thorin and Frerin in full. Nevertheless, here is my offering, a sort of relationship study of all the things each person means or represents to Balin. Because I like Balin but find him difficult to write in first person, and feel I underuse him in my stories.**

**So these will be pre-book/pre-movie and end around the time Thorin ascends to King-in-Waiting in Ered Luin. I am undecided as yet as to whether I will continue on to chapters for Fili and Kili, and, if I do so, whether I will then do additional chapters for the original few to take them all up to the end of the book. I don't mean to sound as though I am blackmailing you, but it will depend very much on how this story is received – not in terms of number of reviews necessarily but just because I've never written in this style, or from Balin's POV and I don't want to continue posting them if nobody likes them (though I will continue to write them but not so fleshed out or coherent-ish).**

**Age is irrelevant because it covers many decades but before book-lovers read this and begin to cry '****_For shame! Thorin is the eldest etc_****.' I will offer the flimsy excuse that movie!Balin is quoted as being one of the eldest and in some sources, ****_the _****eldest of the company and so it is my own headcanon that he is older than Thorin by some five to ten years, why? Because it suits me to think him as such and I reserve the right to pick and choose the bits I like from each !verse and use them to meet my own ends. While we're on the subject, it may be worth noting that I also insert Dwalin between Thorin and Frerin but that's really more of a mistake on my part that I haven't been able to shake off. Birth order is as follows: Balin, (Oin), Thorin, Dwalin, Frerin, (Gloin), Dis. I have no notes whatsoever for Oin or Gloin so at the moment I have no plans to write chapters for them despite their being as closely connected to the Durin line as Balin & Dwalin are…sorry.**

**All that being said, I hope you might find time to leave a line or six and I will get back to each of you. **

**Also, sorry for the humongous author's note - I just miss you, guys ;p**

**Good grief...**

* * *

Thorin is heir to the throne, second only to his father. He is unimpressive, ugly and his cries would wake the dead if he were not so doted upon that he is hushed before he starts up. He is pudgy, grasping hands that pull at Balin's hair, and sharp orders to '_be kind to your cousin, Balin_'; sometimes Thorin is resentment and a feeling of utter displacement. But Thorin is also gummy smiles and unblinking eyes that lend credence to any tall tales Balin cares to tell their elders. He is soft breaths that tickle Balin's face when they tire of being fearsome warriors and lay down to be sleeping dragons instead. He is a deadweight that hangs on Balin's sleeves and squeals in delight as he is dragged from room to room across the polished stone floors. He is all heartbroken pleas and clumsy petting when Balin takes a tumble and breaks his nose against the floor because Thorin the Dragon does not care to be climbed upon whilst sleeping. Thorin is gentle reassurances that he is the best friend a dwarfling could ask for, and no usurper – particularly one as earsplittingly loud as Dwalin – will change that.

* * *

Thorin is days of watching him sigh and pout his way through lessons because he would rather be playing with Dwalin than stuck in a musty room full of scrolls with a teacher as old as the mountain itself. He cannot lift a single weapon but his hugs when Balin swears he will not tell just about squeeze the life out of Balin. He is all undivided attention and Balin is his favourite person in the world when they play alone, but when Dwalin joins them he favours his brother to the point of ignoring Balin completely. Thorin is shushed weeping and assurances that a younger brother truly is not the end of the world, and indulgent conversations as he attempts to decide whether Frerin is a thing to be cherished or loathed. Thorin is ruthless in training and repeatedly lording his newfound skill with a sword over Balin, but he is also wounded looks of betrayal when Balin finds his own skill with an axe that Thorin cannot hope to wield for at least another two years. Thorin is catching him 'borrowing' balms from the infirmary to soothe his abused muscles when the indignity of Dwalin wielding weapons that Thorin cannot becomes too great and the young prince would rather do himself an injury than bear it any longer. Thorin is looking on in pride and just a little jealousy as he grows tall and strong – far taller than Balin despite his superior age – and is raised to the highest class in training whilst Balin lags behind. He is not so gentle reminders that it is not only Dis who craves her elder brother's attention; that any skill Frerin has perfected in combat comes only from the desire to emulate his brother and avoid disappointing their elders.

* * *

Thorin is standing at the ramparts and feeling the air grow heavy, a sound like thunder ripping through the skies to the mountain. He is cowering behind columns, clutching at one another and feeling a heat such as they have never known as Smaug the Terrible descends upon Erebor. Thorin is helplessness and terror at watching a young cousin sprint further away into the mountain in search of the king. He is swearing that if he does not return, Balin will never forgive Thror his folly or greed as long as any of them live. He is feeling the first stirrings of true hatred and betrayal in Balin's heart as Thorin's desperate plea to the elven king goes so disdainfully ignored.

Thorin is a surprisingly small ball of quaking shoulders and stifled sobs, which, rather than relaxing beneath Balin's sympathetic touch, goes rigid and bloodies his nose before storming away in silence. He seeks out Balin's comfort later though, and it is all either of them can do to muffle their own cries amidst the mourning of so many others. He is the knowledge that stories that may soothe one cousin into sleep may also send the eldest into blind rages that despite Balin and Dwalin's best efforts, are only quelled by being violently struck down by the Thror or his son. He is bloodied hands and tremulous breaths that beg forgiveness from the wrong person for losing all patience and meeting his brother's adolescent rebellion with a violence that borders on the vindictive. Thorin is no words exchanged as Balin watches him lay his warmest fur over his exhausted younger brother – a brother who now refuses to be near any of them. He is bloodshot eyes within a face blackened by soot, and standing shoulder to shoulder to _demand_ their just pay at the doors of men only to have those doors slammed in their faces.

* * *

Thorin is urgent whispers and wordless conversations as they sit at counsel with their elders and earnestly swear allegiance to Thror who reads usurpation and collusion into every look that passes between them. He is a voice that has run hoarse with pleas for mercy on his brother's behalf, that voices no defence when Frerin accuses him of holding him back from the glory of battle, and that Balin lies awake listening to long into the night as Thorin prays to Mahal for safety and happiness for his siblings, and for his people. He is the youngster who is a warrior now whether they want it or not, and who, on the morn of battle, stands before the leaders of the Seven Clans, with a fierce grip upon his half-armoured brother's shoulders, and tells their king '_No'_. Thorin is the eyes that burn with heartbreak and rage as a defiant Frerin kneels to their king and swears his own allegiance, desperate to prove himself '_more than just the spare'_.

Thorin is a half-glimpsed whirlwind who stands back to back with Dwalin and makes corpses of any foul creatures who cross their path. He is the gut-wrenching cry, heard over all others as their king meets his grim end. He cleaves The Defiler's arm from his body and if death in battle were to come to Balin, he swears he would die with Thorin's name as his battle cry for there was no other _king _– not Thror, nor Thrain, nor even Durin himself – for whom Balin would more gladly die. Thorin is a prince, who stands atop the corpses of their enemy and rallies their people, brings them victory where there was only death. He is Oakenshield, and still he lays down every weapon to hold his fallen brother once more. He is strong as the mountain itself, and his knees go from under him as he makes to light the fire beneath the pyre. But he is only one hero amongst many, and when all is quiet but for mourning cries, Thorin still bows his head and will hear no word of Balin doing otherwise as he kneels and swears allegiance to his father.

* * *

Thorin is haunted eyes within a pale face, and does not speak for days as they retreat back to find their people who wait for word from them in Dunland. He is Dwalin's stepping in and bodily removing Dis from the vicinity when, because she cannot ever be told the truth of it, she cannot or will not see past Thorin's part in Frerin's death. He is a year's travelling to settle in Ered Luin, where they will stay until the time is right – a year of silence broken only when it becomes clear that Thrain's control of his own emotions is sporadic at best and their people are in need of leadership.

Thorin is the pride of a prince who will not seek anyone's charity and the beating down of a man who cannot feed his own family, let alone his people. He is humbling themselves to beg at doors, and hardening themselves to the vicious taunting and cruel beatings such vagrancy inspires. His is the banner under which Balin seeks alliance with their Northern cousins, and welcomes dwarves from throughout the fallen cities of Belegost and Nogrod into their midst. Thorin is the one who can summon no tears for Thrain's disappearance but screams his throat raw when he sees how their father's 'death' affects his sister. He is candles burned so low that there is nothing left, and fingers worked to the bone as he strives to give his sister and his people the home they deserve but many have never known.

* * *

Thorin is every harsh word, and every gentle touch that he has ever experienced. He is every triumph, and every disappointment, every joy and every grief. Thorin is a king's confidence and a younger cousin's bravado. He is harsh reproaches in some matters and whispered reassurances in others. He is Balin's oldest friend, more brother now than cousin and whose opinion Balin values above any other's as Thorin does likewise. They have been each other's playmates, confidants, and co-conspirators; they have faced kings, elves, beasts and orcs, and they have not wavered much.

Thorin is king, and cousin and brother and _laddie_ and when Thorin calls upon him, Balin will answer his need without thought for Thorin is King, and he is second to no one.


End file.
